Repercussions
by alliluna
Summary: "This child is the manifestation of my mistake. I'm not sure I can love it." The repercussions of the Pamuk incident change everything. AU from 1x03.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N So this story idea has been bothering me a while, and while I find it hard to write Season 1 fic (much as I love it, the characters are so different back then, and I don't find them quite as easy to write) but this wouldn't leave me alone. Enjoy!**

The smell is overwhelming. It makes the nausea even worse, but what is she to do? Throw up the contents of her stomach on the carpet? It isn't just a typical bout of stomach flu, either. She had those often when she was young. No, this is different. Different, and possibly the worst thing that could happen to her.

Finally, she gets up off of her nausea has passed. Hopefully that is all for today.

"Milady, are you feeling alright?" Anna's bright, cheerful face peeks into the bathroom. As soon as she sees her mistress standing next to the toilet, her face falls. She has seen Mary sick the past couple mornings, and she suspects. She probably has suspected before Mary herself has.

Mary leans on the wall. "What does it look like?" Her bitter tone does not surprise Anna, but even so, Anna steps back and lowers her head.

"Anything I can do for you?" Anna tries to step forward again, but Mary holds her hand out. There are the barest traces of tears on her face. Tears that had probably fallen the night before.

"Please...get my mother," Mary makes her way to the door and sits down on her bed. "Tell her to come right now."

Anna nods and hurries off to do the task at hand.

Mary finds herself lying flat on her back, touching her belly. Where her unwanted child is probably growing. Curse Pamuk, for coming into her room late at night and putting her in an impossible situation. But she knew it was her fault. She should have rang the bell. Carson would have come to her aid, and Carson would never tell. But she had given in, he had died, and now she is pregnant with his child.

She turns onto her side when her mother comes in. She can't face it just yet. Not the facts. "Mary?" Cora is so sweet, so loving, so oblivious to what is happening. Not for long though. "Mary, is everything alright."

She can't cry. She can't show her weakness, much as she wants to let the tears flow. "Not really."

Her mother's face is twisted into an expression of confusion. Does she really not suspect anything? Can she be that thick? "Mary, darling, what's wrong? Whatever is wrong, you can tell me. You don't need to hide anything from me."

"Even if you'll hate me forever?" Only now does Mary realize that she longs for the approval, the love of her parents. While she scoffs at them, especially at her American mother, she really longs for their approval and love.

Cora touches her shoulder. "Mary, a mother will never hate her child."

"I'm pregnant." The words rush out. She has said it. "There. Do you hate me now?" She studies her mother's face for any sign of disapproval, any sign of hate.

The countess twists her face into a worried, but sympathetic mask. "It is no coincidence that Kemal Pamuk died three months ago?"

Mary rubs her eyes to hold back tears that are pressing closer to flowing every second. "How could you think otherwise? Have you lost all faith in my virtue?" She is spitting the words out now, anger and bitterness trying to mask how really frightened she is.

"I can't say I have much faith in it anymore. But Pamuk is the father?" The younger woman nods. Finally, the tears are pushing out, and they roll down her cheeks. "Oh Mama, what am I going to do?"

Cora clasps her daughter's hand. "Don't be scared, Mary. Your father and I will come up with something."

"If he doesn't kill me first."

The countess sighs and rubs her daughter's back gently. "He won't kill you, Mary. He'll be disappointed in you, but he won't kill you. Now should we tell him?" Mary rubs her tear-filled eyes.

"I suppose. Better now than never."

"Pregnant?" Robert's eyes flash angrily around the room. "My unmarried twenty-year-old daughter is pregnant? Mary, how could you do something like this to me?"

Cora wraps her arms protectively around her daughter. Her husband looks like he is about to murder someone, and she doesn't want that someone to be Mary. "Robert, please calm down. It isn't all Mary's fault."

"It isn't her fault? She's supposed to have sense, to be in control of herself. But no, she has to...become pregnant." He is squeamish, not liking to talk about this subject. It is disgusting to him, something no well-mannered person should talk about.

"I've forgiven her, surely you can as well," Cora replies coolly.

Robert begins to pace. "Who is the father? Mary, surely you can enlighten me as to that, can't you?"

Mary lifts her eyes up to her father, finally daring to look at him. He is furious, of course. She didn't expect any less from him, but it scares her to see her father trying and failing to control his rage. "Do you remember Kemal Pamuk?"

"Of course. He died in his bed just three months ago, in our house. How do you expect me to forget?" Robert stops pacing as the realization hits him. "He's the father."

The tears are threatening once again. Mary doesn't think she's ever cried so much in a single day. "He didn't die in his bed. He died in mine."

Robert stops and sinks wordlessly into a chair. He is shocked. Maybe he shouldn't be, as stranger things have happened, but this shocks him to the very core. "He died...in your bed."

"Yes." Mary says it with as much conviction as she can manage. It will do no good to pretend it didn't happen.

"How did he get back to his room then?"

Mary glances at Cora, wondering if she can betray her mother and Anna for the great service they did her in the middle of the night. Cora takes matters into her own hands. "Mary woke Anna and I up and we carried him to the other side of the house."

"The three of you?" Both women nod.

"Don't blame Mama though," Mary says quickly. "She didn't want to tell you because it would do you no good. We had no idea I was pregnant then. The fault is all mine."

Robert sighs. "I'm very disappointed in you, Mary." How often will she hear that in the next months?

"I know, Papa. I'm disappointed in myself." As if that makes anything better. She is disappointed in herself, but it doesn't change a thing.

"What will we do with it?" Robert glances quickly at Mary and then looks back at his feet, not wanting to make eye contact with his daughter.

Cora stands as if to assume command. "Robert, could we raise the child as our own?"

Mary looks up in surprise. "You and Papa raise the child...as if it's my sibling? But aren't you too old to have a child?"

"No. Plenty of women my age have had children. It isn't anything new. But we'll say we've sent you to America, while really, you can stay in a cottage on the estate or something, and then when you have the baby, we'll say it's mine and you can come back."

Robert nods. "I suppose it's for the best. But what if the child is a boy?"

"Then it is a boy..." Cora replies, not really understanding his question. Her mind has been completely on her daughter.

"If it is a boy, then he is the new heir," Robert reminds her. "Everyone must think he is ours, so he will be the heir. And Matthew will not be."

Mary rolls her eyes. "Is that all you care about? Matthew again?"

Her father groans in his frustration. "No, but I do think it's quite unfair for him to have his inheritance taken away due to your stupid mistake."

"The heir will be part of the direct family line. Isn't that what you wanted?"Cora walks over to where her husband is sitting and kneels down next to him. "It's for the best."

Robert shakes his head miserably. "I don't want my heir to be the bastard of a dead turk."

Mary bristles at her father's cold words. "Who knows if it will even be a boy? I might have a girl, and then you'll have worried about this for nothing? Mama, please excuse me for dinner. I'm going to have a tray in my room." And with that, she turns her back on her parents and walks out of their bedroom.

"Robert?" Cora pats her husband's arm. "Please don't be too hard on her. She's remorseful enough. She's certainly learned her lesson."

"How could this happen? I can't believe... Cora, I'm supposed to protect our girls, and now...I can't believe she would do something like this."

Cora kisses her husband's cheek, not knowing what else to do to assure. "I'm going to change for dinner. Shall we tell the family...that I'm pregnant? I think we should just keep this between you, Mary, and I. Sybil and Edith don't need to know. I think your mother and Matthew and Isobel are coming, too"

"I suppose so," Robert says, and he rises from his chair. "I'll ring for Bates, then."

Dinner seems fairly normal, even though Mary is up in her room and Robert is obviously stressed. Cora observes as Edith tries to entertain Matthew, though he doesn't seem too interested. He had asked after Mary, and seemed quite disappointed to hear that she wouldn't be down for dinner. Isobel and Violet are once again verbally sparring over something at the hospital. Sybil keeps asking her father if he is okay, to which Robert just says yes.

"I have something to announce," Cora says, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. She glances at Robert. Once she announces it, there is no going back. They will raise the baby as their own, they cannot go back on their word. She takes a deep breath. "I'm once again pregnant."

Sybil is utterly delighted. "Another little baby in this house? How exciting!" Edith also is excited, just not quite as vocal as her sister.

But Matthew's reaction saddens Cora more than she expected that it would. He looks so utterly conflicted, not sure what to make of it. Should the baby be a boy, he will lose his inheritance that he in't sure he wants, and maybe everything can go back to normal. But after getting to know the family, he isn't sure he wants to lose his inheritance.

Robert tries to give Matthew a weak smile. "If the baby is a boy..."

"No, don't worry about me. If the baby is a boy, the inheritance is rightfully his. He'd be much more worthy to be an earl than me," Matthew tries. He isn't sure he believes himself what he is saying, and Robert certainly doesn't.

The earl isn't quite sure how to reply. "Well, for your sake, I hope it is a girl."

Matthew sighs. "Thank you, but it's probably for the best that it's a boy. Then you'll have your own son to continue your line, not a distant cousin. So don't worry about me, please."

"I've grown to like you quite a bit, Matthew, and I would miss you quite a bit if you were not here," Robert admits. Of course he wants a grandson, but he also doesn't want Matthew's inheritance to be taken. And maybe, in the back corner of his mind, he doesn't really want the son of a dead turk to be his heir.

Matthew nods at the comment, but doesn't know what to say.

"Should we go in?" Cora asks. They do, and many congratulations are exchanged, questions are asked, and at last, when Cora and Robert feel they couldn't be any more worn out, Isobel announces that they are going, and Violet leaves soon afterwards.

"I'm going to see Mary," Cora says, after they all have left.

"Is she feeling okay?" Sybil questions. She is oblivious, completely clueless as to what her sister is going through, and Cora envies her.

Robert nods. "Yes, girls. I think it's about time to retire."

Edith and Sybil follow their father up the stairs, and Cora lags behind. She is almost worried about talking to Mary again, knowing how hurt and afraid her daughter feels. "Mary, darling?" She opens the door to the room. Mary is lying flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Mary, how are you feeling?"

Mary sits up, surprised and slightly annoyed by her mother's question. "How do you think I am?"

"I'm sorry, darling. We announced it at dinner. The whole family thinks I'm pregnant now." Cora sits on the edge of the bed and gives a tight smile to her daughter. "None of them will know anything else. We'll say you're going to America."

The younger woman asks, "And Sybil and Edith won't know a thing?"

"I didn't think they needed to. It's better this way. And Mary...there's an empty cottage on the estate. You can live there until the baby is born. We'll hire a girl from the village."

Mary nods in acceptance. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

The mother wraps her arms around her daughter. "It isn't all your fault. Some things are out of our control."

"Thank you for that," Mary says, trying to keep her composure. She's already shed enough tears. "I can't believe you don't hate me, even after all of this. And you want to raise it as your own. This child is the manifestation of my mistake. How can I love it? And it isn't the child's fault, it's all my fault."

Cora kisses her daughter's dark hair. "Try and get some rest, darling. I love you."

And for the first time in a very long time, Mary says, "I love you too."


	2. Chapter 2

The cottage is nice enough, she supposes. She'll never get used to living in a house so small, but it's only her and Rebecca, the girl from the village who cooks and cleans, but rarely speaks. Every night, the girl goes home to her family, leaving Mary very much alone.

She has never been so bored. She used to think living alone would be something pleasant, but this isolation, this lack of human interaction, is really grating on her. Of course, Mama comes twice a week, with money for Rebecca to buy food and maybe a book or two, but that is all. Papa rarely comes to see her, and Mary is certain that he doesn't want to face her.

The light is streaming in through the slats of the windows in her small bedroom. She stretches and places a hand on her growing belly. She's been stuck here for three months, and there are three to go. She isn't sure if she can handle three more month of this total boredom, this misery in this tiny cottage.

A groan escapes her lips as she comes out of her room, not bothering to change out of her nightgown. She thinks about finding Rebecca to help her get into her day clothes, but honestly, no one is going to see her. A dressing gown is enough. And the servant girl is probably busy making breakfast.

Apathy is something she often exemplifies, or at least pretends to have. Honestly, it is easier to pretend that she doesn't care about anything than to try and have the right emotions for the right time. But never has she felt such soul-crushing apathy as she has when living in this tiny cottage. There are books, true, books to keep her company, but she can't find herself caring about any of them. She was never much of a reader.

She sleeps. She reads. She eats whatever the little child inside her makes her crave, sending poor Rebecca out shopping for some new kind of food at least once a day. She stares out the small window, at the giddy children playing out on the farms, and wishes she could go back to those days. But she doesn't really care about any of it.

Rebecca brings her tea, meekly nodding and then scurrying off. Mary takes it upon herself to watch Rebecca and try and analyze her. She is so quiet, so shy, and Mary finds it one of the more interesting things that she has to do. Of course, the girl is the onlyhuman who regularly interacts with Mary, so it might be her longing for people again.

She picks up a copy of a book, Austen, by the looks of it, and opens it. But she just doesn't care. She doesn't have any interest in whether Elizabeth and Darcy will get together. But it is something to do, something to pass the time.

The clock says five, and Mary realizes she's only been up for a few hours. She has slept often, sleep being an escape. The book is set down on the side table and she leans back in the chair, languishing in her laziness.

Then she hears someone unlocking the door.

The entrance to the house is in the front parlor, which Mary finds very strange. She is used to having a front hall, and butlers to open the doors for her. Here, the door opens right into the front room where she reads.

"Mama?" Mary figures it is her mother who has come to see her. It's a Friday, not one of her usual days, but it isn't like she can't come whenever she likes. Cora is the only one who has a key.

Or so she thinks. But this is not who she is expecting. A blond head peeks through the door.

Matthew.

He comes in, and steps back when he sees Mary in the room. "I'm sorry, I thought no one was in here. I was just coming to examine the..." Then he realizes who it is. "Mary. Aren't you in America?"

She can't help but laugh. "Obviously not."

"But why are you..." He surveys her body and his voice trails off. "Mary, are you..."

She laughs again at his hesitance, his confusion. "I'm pregnant, yes." She doesn't know Matthew that well, and while he's a rather pathetic lovesick puppy in her mind, she decides she can trust him. She needs to explain. "I am pregnant, my mother is not. We will raise the baby as if it is hers."

He blinks rapidly, not fully able to comprehend what Mary is saying. "So...you're pregnant..."

"I just said that."

"Who is the father?" It is an innocent question, though he looks almost afraid of the answer.

She laughs in spite of herself again. "You know Kemal Pamuk? The Turkish diplomat? He didn't die in his bed. He died in mine." She acts nonchalant, not afraid to tell him. She doesn't think that highly of him anyway. He's just annoying Cousin Matthew. He's probably too priggish to even speak to her again, and it isn't like she cares.

But to her surprise, he simply nods in acceptance of this information, closing his eyes as if to let it all sink in. "Did he...force you?"

"Why does it matter to you?"

He tries to give her a smile. "Because you matter a very great deal. And I want to be able to know everything before I make a complete judgement."

Mary sits back down in her chair. "Typical lawyer." She makes a realization. "I'm in my dressing gown," she says, as if she is surprised.

"No, don't worry about it." He waves off her worries and sits down in the chair across from her.

"Did he force himself on you?" She is taken aback by his honesty and directness. Not even Mama was this curious about it. Mama had simply assumed that she had willing let Pamuk into her room. That she had let him impregnate her.

"He opened the door to my room and told me I would be ruined if there was a man found in my room anyway."

The truth. It certainly sounds like the truth, and Matthew nods. "I see."

"I'm certain you think I'm a terrible woman without morals now, don't you. Isn't that what all men who find out will think of me?" Mary stares at him, her brown eyes boring into his.

He shakes his head. "No. I think you were placed in an impossible situation, and you were taken advantage of."

"Well..." she inhales harshly, unsure what to make of his unprecedentedly kind reaction, "I suppose that's true. That wasn't the way my parents saw it though."

Matthew lowers his head in thought, and Mary can't help but smile at his sweet mannerisms. He has just become a far better man in Mary's eyes. She isn't sure if she really deserves his acceptance, but she is grateful.

"If the baby is a boy though..." His head snaps back up. "If the baby is a boy, he wouldn't be the heir, would he?" She gives him an eye roll, a huge one that she usually reserves for Edith. She realizes that she hasn't seen Edith in three months. Maybe not all things about this cottage are bad. "Matthew, you're a lawyer."

"I'm perfectly aware of my profession."

"So technically he wouldn't be, but as my parents are raising him as their own, if it is a boy, it will be considered their heir by the rest of the world," Mary explains, her patience wearing thin. And a little part of her regrets telling him that, as he'll most certainly hate her. Six months ago, she wouldn't have care if he hated her. Now, she longs for him to stay, not to leave her.

He looks a little hurt by this. "So my inheritance might go to your illegitimate child..."

This stings Mary, it really does. She is surprised by how much his upset hurt her. "We only wanted the child to not have to live under the shadow of being illegitimate. We can give it the life it deserves this way."

"At the consequence of hurting others," he says, and he stands up. It is abrupt, but he isn't sure what else to do. "Goodbye Mary, and good luck."

She sighs and her eyes follow him as he walks out the door into the evening. And only now does she the full repercussions of what she has done.


End file.
